Jimmy G is so good looking, he can do anything!

The 49ers GQ Magazine-perfect quarterback Jimmy Garoppolo has a power more potent than Joe Montana's cool or Steve Young's zip. He wins hearts and minds with his chiseled features. 

This is crucial when your football is as choppy as the windswept waters of San Francisco Bay. In the first half of the Niners' Divisional Round game against the Packers, Jimmy hit on three passes out of nine for 43 yards, and threw an interception. But nobody in California was worried - they all know that Jimmy has the resilience of an overconfident swimsuit model posing in the icy waters off Sumba Island.

Gee, Jimmy is so good. In fact ...

Jimmy G is so good looking that his most telegraphed floaters stun defenders into a plod.

Jimmy G is so good looking that when he leaves a floater in the locker room toilet nobody throws a flag.

Jimmy G is so good looking that few notice when his tosses clear receivers by three yards, or when his spirals look like a wet kite caught in a draft.

Speaking of wet fabric ... Jimmy G is so good looking he could wear a wet t-shirt to a press conference without prompting a single question about it.

Jimmy G is so good looking, no one gives a thought to his heavy feet in the pocket, even when it's worsened by his bulky basketball-style shoes.

Jimmy G is so good looking that fans have forgotten how much better three stripes on the 49ers sleeve was than the current two. 

Jimmy G is so good looking that the NFL is considering whether the 49ers should play the Championship Game without an opponent.

&#$@*! Jimmy G is so good looking that when he swears, the internet swoons.

Jimmy G is so good looking that minus 10 degrees in Green Bay can feel like warm pee down the leg.

TIMEOUT!

Why Football Is Cool has moved to Substack.

Be sure to subscribe >

Let's get Monday Night Football back to being iconic

By J.P. Pelosi

*NFL's MNF started tentatively in 1964, untelevised 
*The 'spectacle' as we know it kicked off in the seventies
*First game saw the Browns beat the Jets 31-21, Sep 21, 1970

Football on Monday night seems a grand idea, no matter which way you dial it up.

Unless you're Tony Robbins or Hugh Hefner, most weeks start with a thud, a cold hard realisation that work awaits, the clothes hamper is festering and dinner might well be frozen.

Indeed, many of us need the relief of Monday night sports to ease us into the five day circus. But there's a problem: the ringmaster has found his way into our TVs to mess up Monday football, too.

Take the first two Monday games of the upcoming NFL season: Steelers - Redskins, Niners - Rams. Sure, they're interesting enough teams, and I get it, an east coast match-up complimented by a west coast clash. But this is the once legendary Monday Night Football!

Cossell, Gifford, Michaels, Madden. Marino. Plunkett. Montana. That freaking fantastic theme song... ba ba baaaaam ... babadum...ba ba baaaaa ...

How did it all become so, well, pedestrian?

Surely Giants - Cowboys would see more chips spat across living rooms. Chargers - Chiefs, too, would ignite some action. But there's a weird shift toward airing second rate contests, a trend that's making Monday sports fixtures feel blander than date night with Bill Belichick.

A rugby scrum of content

It's the same issue with football in my backyard, the National Rugby League (NRL). Instead of being a beer cracking, after-work barbecuing extravaganza, Monday NRL games are really an afterthought.

I'm not even sure most fans know it's on, and that's largely to do with it being a cable TV offering only. Perhaps the TV stations are just happy to lock big deals in with sporting codes and the games have become throwaway details. Or maybe with all the content flying around now, programmers simply don't know what constitutes a feature game anymore.

Either way, rugby league won't be played on Mondays anymore and columnists are already rejoicing. Given its soft crowds, Thursday Night Football could well be next.

Strength in numbers

The NFL can get away with a casual strategy because of the size of the US population, and more importantly, the sheer number of cable subscribers. NFL games attract massive crowds, both to the stadium and the box, so there's no real danger of losing fans over, say, a lazy Jags - Bucs game. Oh, they'll be watching, even with three sheets to the wind.

In Australia, however, cable isn't as prevalent. Even if it was, I don't think fans care enough about Monday's night of football because the fixtures are rarely appealing, and consequently, crowds a smaller than at local kids pantomime. It's not a good look.

Top shelf old boy!

One sporting competition that seems to have the gist of things is the English Premier League, which sometimes will serve up a Monday nighter for the ages. Take a recent affair between London rivals Chelsea and West Ham: The Telegraph called it a whizz-bang of a match. No messing around, just give the people what they want.

The NFL equivalent might be heated iteration of Pats - Giants, or Packers - Bears. Not the Rams (sorry LA), just because you have a new stadium to show off. Or the Skins because, I don't know, it's an election year?

Pretty packaging enough?

Listen, you have to love the nostalgic themed intro by Peter Berg that ESPN's MNF now uses. It's perfect. I'm in. But the scheduling needs work. It needs to draw a throng and fill the stadium. It needs to set digital recording boxes into a frenzy. And certainly test a few marriages.

The point of non-weekend football is to make it an event, right? You know, something you put your best undies on for that day. We have to want to rush home to kick off our shoes and fire up the grill.

Otherwise it just ends up being something we click on and move past, eventually landing on something with more action, like The Bachelor.

Kaepernick sitting pretty

Alex Smith, a man with an average name, is said to have average quarterbacking skills. In some circles, quarterbacks that successfully manage an offense and limit errors, are a valuable commodity. In others, they are a kind of pariah, undermining creativity, or spontaneity, or something.

Whatever the problem with these quarterbacks---as opposed to bulging, happy-footed wildcards---the NFL enjoys the competition the same way John Hughes dedicated himself to the study of nerds versus studs. And this is where our pro football/retro movie study begins.

Remember Hughes’ Pretty in Pink in which Molly Ringwald’s character, Andie, is smitten with preppie Blane while pal Duckie plays second fiddle? Well, if Blane was a quarterback, he’d be the 49ers’ Colin Kaepernick. Stay with me here. That would make Smith Duckie, and Coach Jim Harbaugh Andie. (Ringwald’s characters often rubbed others the wrong way, so this analogy isn’t as big a stretch as you might think).

What Hughes unpacked so eloquently in his stories, was the hope of something better. Many of his protagonists stumble into popularity only after facing a lifetime of heartache. In some instances, Pretty in Pink being one of them, the chief character is so infatuated with the idea of leaping from the wrong side of the tracks, that when she meets success, all other options pale in comparison.

So, of course, once Kaepernick strutted onto the scene, Smith paled in the eyes of Harbaugh. Not because he was underperforming, throwing too many picks, or complained that Candlestick's winds were ruffling his beard. No, it's because like Duckie, he's reliable, but will never make your heart flutter. The cooler and outwardly more confident Kaepernick apparently will---some say he already has---having worked his mojo into Harbaugh’s heart with intermediate experience. Something tells me the edgy coach favors tattoos and goatees over clean cut niceties. 

With Smith nursing a concussion, Kaepernick has surely stepped up in two games. He’s tossed three touchdowns and 680 yards, and has an astronomical passer rating for a young QB. Yes, the 49ers look good with "Kaep" behind center. So much so that a number of pundits are claiming he has earned his chance. In truth, he's earned the chance about as much as Andrew McCarthy's sports jacket gave his character street cred.

Okay, the Niners are glimmering right now. But weren't they with Smith anyway? In 16 games last season, Smith threw for 3,144 yards, 17 touchdowns and just five interceptions---remember? That was good enough to lift the Niners from irrelevancy and propel them into Super Bowl contention. But that was last year. So, for posterity's sake, let it be re-stated here that Smith, to this point in 2012, has thrown 13 touchdowns, completed 70% of his passes, and notched the best passer rating of his career (104). Listen, those are just numbers. If you need proof, revisit his superb scrambling and deft passing in last season's playoff against the Saints. 

It seems quarterbacks, like underappreciated spouses, are vulnerable to the fading light of late autumn. What once seemed lithe, energetic, and full of prospect, suddenly moves in unflattering tones. Smith, though once heralded, has never really been appreciated in San Francisco, at least not by Niners brass. As the top pick in 2005, the sleight and cerebral QB was destined to struggle. Not even supersonic Cam Newton has overcome doubters as the No.1 pick---what chance did Smith ever have? It quickly became apparent he had entered into a one-sided affair in which he'd never find true happiness. Now with the rise of Kaepernick, Smith’s fate as a 49er has been sealed. He’s Jon Cryer, minus the Emmy.

Hey, good luck to Harbaugh, but Smith deserves better. The current 49ers "quarterback controversy", a re-imagining of the Montana – Young duel of 1991, reflects an outcome that’s too commonly accepted in the NFL: that the "other guy" always has greater potential. Of course he has greater potential because nobody knows what that potential is. For this reason, the back-up quarterback, the unproven talent, the unfulfilled fantasy, should be the aspiration of every young signal-caller. Ask Tim Tebow, he'll tell you. He's kneeling in gratitude before the football deity as we speak. 

So here's to a happy ending for Smith. The great John Hughes, at the very least, would have wanted it that way.